


The Deepest Desire of the Soul

by forver-vespertine (TwentySevenSorceress)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Episode: s05e14 My Bloody Valentine, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Short lived pining, So So So Sorry, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwentySevenSorceress/pseuds/forver-vespertine
Summary: Upon the arrival of Famine, the horseman, Dean becomes painfully aware of his most desperate desire... the angel that rescued him from Hell. Castiel endlessly occupies all of his thoughts- to the point where he finally breaks, and  ends up praying to him for help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So... a friend of mine dared me to write smut and here's the result. Sorry in advance. It's dated Season 5, Episode 14, and Famine is not nearly as powerful here as he was in the episode(like the cannibalism doesn't happen), people are merely obsessed with their respective hungers because of his presence.

Famine had settled completely upon the town, it seemed that no one was safe from the horseman’s effects.

Everyone was craving the deepest desires of their hearts and their heads- the carnal urges that humans suppressed unconsciously every second of every day. The presence of Famine had finally lifted those inhibitions… and Dean had never felt so much at once.

…

At the beginning he watched as police reports rolled in, people who’d stuff themselves so full of their favorite foods that they died, some with anger issues amplified by Famine, who tore through their houses and choked beneath the rubble.

Dean, he had wondered what was wrong with him that he didn’t feel the hunger Sam described as he wolfed down food… but it turned out that nothing was wrong at all. He was later to realize that the feeling had always been there, so he hadn’t noticed when it started to swell.

The thing he craved more than anything else… Castiel.

His angel with his mussed sex hair and his forever coarse voice, his rumpled clothes and his impossibly blue eyes... Dean had always pushed the thoughts away, always told himself how ridiculous the very idea was. Cas was the definition of unattainable, an Angel of the Lord that walked the Earth on his missions from Heaven. There had never been any point in trying.

Even now, Castiel deserved more than a quick fuck only meant to sate Dean’s amplified urges. _Very_ amplified, in fact, as he had been restless with frustration, jerking off to the thought of the angel’s lips, the way the blue of his eyes would look with his mouth wrapped around Dean’s cock. He couldn’t say how often, the days blurred together. Sam was as out of commission as Dean was, and Dean couldn’t calm down long enough to get his mind on where it should’ve been- Famine’s ring. An angel. He was too busy fantasizing about an angel. Surely that was a sin.

He kept trying to remind himself that behind the lust that clouded his head, he cared about Cas more than he could say.

So he tried. The angel flitted in and out of the town as he normally did during cases, always shooting Dean concerned looks as he took in his apparent stiffness and distance. He could hardly take it; he couldn’t look at Cas’ face without the filthy thoughts gripping him. His voice was so deep, so deliciously rough and coarse, that he couldn’t listen to it without hearing what it might around like after Dean had fucked his throat. He wanted to hear that carefully measured tone break in an involuntary shout, he wanted to hear the whimpers and the lovely noises he’s make trying to prevent the sounds, which would almost be better than the sounds themselves.

 Dean left the room whenever Castiel entered it, he stopped praying to the angel altogether, just to avoid him. Eventually, Cas seemed to understand, and stopped coming around. He was probably working to stop the Apocalypse wherever he was, not pathetically frozen the way Dean was. But he had to stay away. The less he interacted with Cas, the less tempted he would be.

It didn’t matter how difficult it was to restrain himself, even as the desire licked up his insides like erupting flame. He wanted Castiel with every atom in his body, the angel’s face never leaving his thoughts. He craved the heat of Castiel’s body, the taste of his mouth and the sweat on his skin. And looking back among his now jumbled memories, he couldn’t think of a single girl he’d ever wanted this much, with a burning passion that threatened to swallow him whole. Resisting the urge to seek out Castiel took most of his energy for about two days, while his brother and the rest of the town were incapacitated by their various hungers.

His thoughts had grown from viciously reverent to outright possessive. His thoughts, waking and sleeping, grew filled with fantasies of the way Cas would break his usual cool façade and scream for him, the way he’d beg for it. The face that the angel would make when he came, how the unfiltered heat of him would grip his cock like a vice. The never ending speculation of how tight and hot he’d be wouldn’t leave his mind, it was poison that wormed through his mind and corrupted him from the inside out with _want._ He needed his angel, he wanted to take all of him, own everything from his tan skin to his perfect lips and his rough stubble. Eventually, the filthy fantasies that took over his mind had hammered away at every ounce of stubborn resistance he had scrounged up.

He finally broke.

Dean was lying in the bed of his motel room, alone, his skin covered with a sheen of sweat and his eyes squeezed shut. His clothes lay in a pile on the floor, haphazardly shoved off of his burning skin. The only sounds he could hear were his own fevered panting and pounding heartbeat as he pumped his dick with one hand and gripped the sheets tightly with the other.

_Cas. Cas. Castiel._

He groaned, his arm falling limp at his side. It was no use. Pleasuring himself wasn’t working anymore. With a wounded noise, he gazed up at the ceiling. He had already bitten though the skin on his lower lip with desperation, already done everything he possibly could, and his dick was straining against his stomach, he just _needed-_

 _I PRAY TO THE ANGEL CASTIEL!_ he screamed inside his head. The concept of embarrassment was no longer something he could fathom, if Cas never spoke to him ever again he would be fine, he just needed release. He was beyond the point of pressing the idea of what he wanted into mere words of a prayer. Instead, he practically shoved the never ending thoughts that fueled his hunger to the forefront of his mind, wordlessly begging the angel for his presence, for his body, his heat, his everything.

“Hello, Dean.”

His head jerked up to look at Castiel, standing directly in front of him with just a hint of a smile on his face.

A fucking smile. The bastard had known.

“I would be delighted to assist you, especially since my visits through this place leave me in the position of resisting that same desire,” he said. “You cannot ejaculate, correct? I believe it’s a side effect of the denial, you see, I’ve been dealing with its ramifications as well-”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Of course, somewhere deep down he was flattered and nervous and completely floored by the fact that he was Castiel’s repressed desire, but right now, he was just horny.

“You held out much longer than I expected you to, to your credit. I figured you may have been feeling the same… hunger.” He shrugged, ignoring Dean’s glowering stare. “I did not expect you to reciprocate initially, and refrained from making assumptions. I see now that this may have been a mistake that cost us both unnecessary frustration.”

 _You think?_ Dean thought, glaring pointedly at his rock hard member.

“Yes, I see that. Would you like me to do anything about it?” Dean would’ve believed that Cas was simply slow on the uptake, he was a virgin after all, but the barely-there smile betrayed his real intent. As far as he was concerned, Castiel had just offered to help out, and he was not going to waste any more time on small talk.

Dean growled, rolling off the bed, striding up to Cas, and shoving him against the wall. His head thudded against the closed door. Castiel’s expression didn’t change, if anything, he looked more suspiciously innocent, eyes meeting his own expectantly. “Dean-” he began, but Dean cut off the rest of his sentence with a bruising kiss that cut through the stifling pain of hunger, a high note amidst a garish symphony. His lips were hard against Castiel’s, seeking, wanting, the undeniable promise of more.

He fisted his hands in the shoulders of his trench coat, shoving it off of his arms and tossing it to the floor. Cas, getting the message, lifted his arm to his collar and began to unbutton the shirt, but Dean knocked his hands aside and ripped off the rest, letting his hands roam over the exposed skin. He clutched Castiel to him, letting their bare chests touch as he gripped the other man’s back and shoved their lips together.

The touch was like salvation, it felt like nothing he could easily describe. All he knew was that solace was Castiel’s skin and the taste of his lips made the raging fire into inferno. There was no stopping now.

After he was able to fumble with the button on Cas’ slacks and push them down with his boxers, Dean grabbed his shoulders, spun around, and promptly shoved him onto the bed. He knew there was hunger in his eyes, of the kind when a predator would stalk prey, he had waited so long for this- from before Famine and his stupid ring, since Castiel had threatened with his sharp eyes and his thunderous voice to throw him back into Hell.

Castiel looked up from his position sprawled across the bed, and Dean could see the challenge in his eyes, he could see the dare. And Castiel didn’t even need to say the words, but he did anyways. “Are you finally going to do it?” he deadpanned. “I have been waiting for six days, Dean Winchester, and if you do not come here right this second-”

Oh, that was fucking _it_.

He pounced on Castiel, pinning his wrists above his head with a knee of either side of his body. Dean grinned down at him, tightening his fingers.

“Depends on what you mean by _it_ , baby. If you meant ‘take you apart till you’re begging for me’, of course. I’m gonna give you what you’ve wanted all this time, angel. I’m gonna give you what you _need._ ”

Cas cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side, considering. “If that’s so, I do not understand why you haven’t done it already.” Dean narrowed his eyes. If he was going to do it this way…

He crushed his lips against the angel’s, the undercurrent of desperation flaring up again. It was nearly painful in neediness, but Castiel responded with a equal fervor, his hands gripping his shoulders and moving to rake his fingernails down Dean’s back as the kiss intensified. Dean pressed his body harder against Cas’, feeling their feverish skin touch and the sticky sweat on their skin cling. He let his fingers cradle Cas’ jaw gently before ducking his head to his neck and harshly sucking marks into the tender skin. When he heard the soft gasp from above, he smirked into the skin, Dean had finally made the first crack in Cas’ perfect calm.

Dean kissed down his body, letting his lips skate over the smooth skin of his pectorals and stomach, dipping his tongue into his belly button and nuzzling the spot just above his hardness. Cas glared when he skipped over where he wanted to be touched most to kneel between his spread legs. He reached out and brushed Castiel’s hole with a too-gentle thumb, smiling at the breathy gasp he tried to bite his lip to suppress. It was that break in his manner that Dean couldn't get enough of, the way he was able to get Castiel in such a state that he forgot hold back, the way he always did. He began to circle it softly with his finger, immensely enjoying the way Castiel tried to stifle the noises by twisting his face into the pillow.

“Don’t you worry, baby, I’ll fill this up soon, give you what you want.”

Dean picked up the half empty bottle of lube he had discarded next to the bed, drizzling some on his fingers and rubbing it between his hands. He pressed his index finger against Cas’ hole, prodding a second before pushing it in up to the first knuckle. The angel let out the smallest of moans, catching himself at the last second.

 “I don’t wanna see you holding back like that, alright?” he drawled. “Wanna hear all those pretty noises that you make for me.”

Cas made a motion with his head that looked like an attempt at a nod, which was good enough for Dean.

“More,” he nearly growled. “Push in, already.”

Dean chuckled at his insistence, only Cas could try and keep up his game for this long. But, he complied, sinking his finger in to the hilt, pumping in and out at a steady pace. He added another when Cas started pushing his hips back against his finger, scissoring them to his answering cries. He felt the tight clench of Castiel’s ass around his fingers, something he never thought he would feel. This was some sort of middle ground between his harsh, Famine driven fantasies and his own impossible dreams of his savior angel. It was satisfaction on every level he’d ever imagined, the heat he’d always craved without letting himself realize.

By the time he could take three fingers, Castiel was mumbling about how much he needed it, how much he wanted Dean to fill him up, make him complete.

“Tell me how much you want me,” Dean panted, stroking his own dick fervently.

He pressed his fingers as deep as they would go, curling them just so. Castiel threw his head back, thrashing against the sheets. His moans were obscene, making Dean shiver, and his hips thrust against him, seeking the same feeling. There was something about having an angel, _his_ angel, wrecked and panting for him on his fingers, reduced to nothing but human carnal desire and pure want.

“Want you so much, need you to make the fire go away, you’re the only one that can make it go away-” he was cut off with a groan as Dean purposefully brushed his prostate again.

“Mmhmm,” Dean soothed, moving his fingers in a teasing circular motion. “I’m the only one, and why is that?”

Part of it was the act, part of it was the role he was playing when out of his mind with desire and the ends the need was pushing him… but part of it was curiosity too, he wanted to know what had led them here. Because if they had meant nothing to each other, there would’ve been no hunger to be amplified.

“Because you’re- _fuck-_ you’re-” Castiel’s eyes were closed as he threw his head from side to side, trying to swallow his moans.

“Yes?”

He gasped as if searching for air, eyes snapping open to look at Dean. “I made you,” he managed, squirming on his fingers. “I made every inch of you and cradled- _ah-_ your soul in my hand and- and- you’re beautiful, inside and out, Dean, just- oh-” he jabbed at the bundle of nerves, curling his fingers around Cas’ dick and stroking lightly. His mind was reeling from the words, he wanted to hold onto them, sear them into his memory forever, but the fire was so much worse now, with what he wanted so close.

Castiel was both his disease and his cure, and Dean was dying inside.

Dean murmured his acquiescence in a mixed daze, edged desire and fierce passion twining in his addled head. He lined up his dick and began to push in, and Cas sobbed with relief, mumbling incoherently to keep going. Dean held his breath as he plunged to the hilt, the feeling of being inside of the angel more than he had anticipated. Finally. _Castiel._

“Move,” he moaned, his pupils blown wide with lust. Cas reached up to rest a hand on Dean’s shoulder, pressing himself forward.

He’d never been able to say no to a pretty face.

Dean pulled himself out until only the head remained inside, and plunged back in, groaning at the delicious friction and the hot drag of the motion.

Not only was his skin solace, but his heat was redemption itself somehow, the perfectly contradictory angel of sin lay writhing in his bed. None of the daydreams matched the way Cas felt, he was so real, scorching away every flimsy illusion that had ever danced on the edge of his mind, all that mattered was Castiel, here and now, gripping and moaning for his cock unapologetically.

When he knew he was about to come, he reached down and began to jerk the angel off, twisting his fingers at the head until he fell over the edge with a filthy, shattering moan he never could’ve envisioned coming from those lips. He began thrusting erratically, his rhythm off as he sought his release, collapsing on top of Cas when he came, finally sated.

…

After insane fervor of their mental state had dulled, they lay with Castiel’s head tucked into Dean’s chest, their breathing strangely in tandem and touching in all the places they could, enjoying each other’s warmth.

“I love you, you know,” Cas sighed, nuzzling closer, his arms tightening around Dean’s waist, ignoring how he momentarily stiffened at the words.

Dean let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t, actually. But thanks for letting me know.”

He felt Cas smile into his chest, and the press of his sigh against his skin. “I did everything I could to tell you. I suppose I didn’t realize how passable it all was.” Dean had to roll his eyes at that one. "Maybe I wish the first time hadn't happened for this, of all reasons. But you, I have never been able to regret."

Dean could feel his face heating up. He shifted slightly, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“And, um…” he began, unsure how to start. He couldn't stop replaying Cas' words from earlier in his head, he just couldn't wrap his head around it... Famine said he brought out the hunger of the soul. In what world was  _he_ the deepest desire of Castiel's soul? 

“Yes?”

Dean bit his lip, rolling a strand of Cas’ hair between his fingers. “Did you mean what you said earlier? About… about-” he broke off.

“Your soul?” Cas’ voice was light, his grip not letting up.

“Yeah. That.”

Cas lifted his head, turning Dean’s face so their eyes could meet. Even after all that had just happened, it was hard to look at his eyes, he could never shake the feeling that he was being seen through. His breath caught in his throat when the angel rested a hand over his heart.

“I made every cell of this body, I crafted you your own vessel in the image of your other, without the scars you gathered from your years on Earth.” The way he said it, with a low, steady conviction, sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. “And I know every bit of your soul, I know that Heaven and Hell did not call you the Righteous Man for no reason. They knew your name centuries before you were born, because the good and evil of the universe themselves knew that _you,_ Dean Winchester, would be the soul that embodied humanity. And if you still hold the ridiculous notion that you are lesser than I, you are sorely mistaken.”

The shock lasted about three seconds before he was pulling Cas close and kissing him, letting their lips slide slow and lazy and gentle. The words filled some long empty part of his heart he had always felt as a dull ache, and Castiel felt like the home he had never had. How he’d gone his life without his angel, he’d never know.

“Cas?” he whispered, in a moment between kisses.

“What is it?” he said, tilting his head to the side and curling his fingers at the nape of Dean’s neck.

“I love you, too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'm eternally sorry for the mess that was this fic. My excuse for the general OOC is their slightly messed up state at the time. Have a nice day.


End file.
